beautiful poem 

i don't know how to write
about beautiful things anymore.
i do like the color of testosterone 
in the vial. a light gold. at least,
mine is. i still remember 
the first time i saw one.
the testosterone vial 
wasn't my own but a lover's
on the edge of their sink. i wanted
to touch the vial but didn't.
the tiny glass. pock-marked top 
from the dip of the needle.
months later, 
my friend took me into the city
to get mine for the first time.
it was december & i was 
wearing my binder longer than
i should have. we fit ourselves into
all kinds of vessels. sometimes i would
sit on the windowsill in my dorm room
& just let the headlights 
of cars on main street bathe me.
i decided not to give myself a shot that night.
instead, let the light pass through
my three little testosterone snow globes. 
recently my lover asked me,
"why don't you switch to the gel?"
suggesting that maybe i could
stop taking injections. i felt sad
& insisted i did not want to stop.
it's hard to let myself 
find anything beautiful because 
it is always too late. i want 
to save my life 3 milliliters 
at a time. do not tell me there are
easier ways to be alive. i want the ritual. 
the alchemy. another election ad
pops up on my youtube video 
& says, "trans gender ideology." 
it is so bad right now that you have
to laugh. i am so afraid to tell you
what i think is beautiful.